I Am There

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1. I Come From There I come from there and I have memories Born as mortals are, I have a mother And a house with many windows, I have brothers, friends, And a prison cell with a cold window. Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls, I have my own view, And an extra blade of grass. Mine is the […]...
2. The perfect cup We were born of tea, our mum could drink fourteen Cups a day, an awesome feat to try to rationalise, Beyond belief unless you knew where we had one She would have two. The perfect cup, she said, Was never one; I understood in sum that meant A pot of tea for two, a cuppa […]...
3. Our Hills Dear Mother-Earth Of Titan birth, Yon hills are your large breasts, and often I Have climbed to their top-nipples, fain and dry To drink my mother’s-milk so near the sky. O ye hill-stains, Red, for all rains! The blood that made you has all bled for us, The hearts that paid you are all dead […]...
4. Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women (from a song) Perhaps I was born kneeling, Born coughing on the long winter, Born expecting the kiss of mercy, Born with a passion for quickness And yet, as things progressed, I learned early about the stockade Or taken out, the fume of the enema. By two or three I learned not to kneel, Not […]...
5. The Fight A man is fighting with a cup of coffee. The rules: he must not Break the cup nor spill its coffee; nor must the cup break the Man’s bones or spill his blood. The man said, oh the hell with it, as he swept the cup to The floor. The cup did not break but […]...
6. Delhi – A Re-visitation It’s akin to visiting my foster mother, today, That I am returning to you, mother city, after twenty years, I look at your broad, bereft blood-stained streets, mater, Through which emperors, prime ministers cavalcaded, In victory and defeat, through gates and triumphal arches, That murmur of the pains of your rape and impregnation. The sudden […]...
7. Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because the lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above […]...
8. And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low? And wilt thou weep when I am low? Sweet lady! speak those words again: Yet if they grieve thee, say not so – I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone, My blood runs coldly through my breast; And when I perish, thou alone Wilt sigh above my […]...
9. Nursing You On the first night Of the full moon, The primeval sack of ocean Broke, & I gave birth to you Little woman, Little carrot top, Little turned-up nose, Pushing you out of myself As my mother Pushed Me out of herself, As her mother did, & her mother’s mother before her, All of us born […]...
10. Griffy the Cooper The cooper should know about tubs. But I learned about life as well, And you who loiter around these graves Think you know life. You think your eye sweeps about a wide horizon, perhaps, In truth you are only looking around the interior of your tub. You cannot lift yourself to its rim And see […]...
11. December, 1919 Last night I heard your voice, mother, The words you sang to me When I, a little barefoot boy, Knelt down against your knee. And tears gushed from my heart, mother, And passed beyond its wall, But though the fountain reached my throat The drops refused to fall. ‘Tis ten years since you died, mother, […]...
12. Lois Spears Here lies the body of Lois Spears, Born Lois Fluke, daughter of Willard Fluke, Wife of Cyrus Spears, Mother of Myrtle and Virgil Spears, Children with clear eyes and sound limbs (I was born blind) I was the happiest of women As wife, mother and housekeeper, Caring for my loved ones, And making my home […]...
13. Hymn 101 Joy in heaven for a repenting sinner. Luke 15:7,10. Who can describe the joys that rise Through all the courts of Paradise, To see a prodigal return, To see an heir of glory born? With joy the Father doth approve The fruit of his eternal love; The Son with joy looks down and sees The […]...
14. To India O YOUNG through all thy immemorial years! Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom, And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres, Beget new glories from thine ageless womb! The nations that in fettered darkness weep Crave thee to lead them where great mornings break. . . . Mother, O Mother, wherefore dost thou sleep? […]...
15. Russian Sonia I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen years, Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia, All up and down the boulevards of Paris, Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts, And later of poor artists and of poets. At forty years, passée, […]...
16. Now Finale to the Shore NOW finale to the shore! Now, land and life, finale, and farewell! Now Voyager depart! (much, much for thee is yet in store;) Often enough hast thou adventur’d o’er the seas, Cautiously cruising, studying the charts, Duly again to port, and hawser’s tie, returning: -But now obey, thy cherish’d, secret wish, Embrace thy friends-leave all […]...
17. Story “And if he’s gone away,” said she, “Good riddance, if you’re asking me. I’m not a one to lie awake And weep for anybody’s sake. There’s better lads than him about! I’ll wear my buckled slippers out A-dancing till the break of day. I’m better off with him away! And if he never come,” said […]...
18. The Abortion Somebody who should have been born Is gone. Just as the earth puckered its mouth, Each bud puffing out from its knot, I changed my shoes, and then drove south. Up past the Blue Mountains, where Pennsylvania humps on endlessly, Wearing, like a crayoned cat, its green hair, Its roads sunken in like a gray […]...
19. Baby's Way If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment. It is not for nothing that he does not leave us. He loves to rest his head on mother’s bosom, and cannot ever Bear to lose sight of her. Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth can Understand […]...
20. The Tortoise in Eternity Within my house of patterned horn I sleep in such a bed As men may keep before they’re born And after when they’re dead. Sticks and stones may break their bones, And words may make them bleed; There is not one of them who owns An armour to his need. Tougher than hide or lozenged […]...
21. Living and a Dead Faith The Lord receives his highest praise From humble minds and hearts sincere; While all the loud professor says Offends the righteous Judge’s ear. To walk as children of the day, To mark the precepts’ holy light, To wage the warfare, watch, and pray, Show who are pleasing in His sight. Not words alone it cost […]...
22. Good-bye The last of last words spoken is, Good-bye – The last dismantled flower in the weed-grown hedge, The last thin rumour of a feeble bell far ringing, The last blind rat to spurn the mildewed rye. A hardening darkness glasses the haunted eye, Shines into nothing the watcher’s burnt-out candle, Wreathes into scentless nothing the […]...
23. The Trail Of No Return So now I take a bitter road Whereon no bourne I see, And wearily I lift the load That once I bore with glee. For me no more by sea or shore Adventure’s star shall burn, As I forsake wild ways to take The Trail of No Return. Such paths of peril I have trod: […]...
24. Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seemed my flame to qualify. As easy might I from my self depart As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie. That is my home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, […]...
25. Patria I would not even ask my heart to say If I could love some other land as well As thee, my country, had I felt the spell Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey The charm of France, or England’s mighty sway. I would not be so much an infidel As once to dream, […]...
26. Proclamation Without Pretension Art is going to sleep for a new world to be born “ART”-parrot word-replaced by DADA, PLESIOSAURUS, or handkerchief The talent THAT CAN BE LEARNED makes the Poet a druggist TODAY the criticism Of balances no longer challenges with resemblances Hypertrophic painters hyperaes- Theticized and hypnotized by the hyacinths Of the hypocritical-looking muezzins CONSOLIDATE THE […]...
27. Child of a Day Child of a day, thou knowest not The tears that overflow thy urn, The gushing eyes that read thy lot, Nor, if thou knewest, couldst return! And why the wish! the pure and blest Watch like thy mother o’er thy sleep. O peaceful night! O envied rest! Thou wilt not ever see her weep....
28. To Whom Words Are Mightier 1/ To whom words are mightier than swords Be warned, for woes may thee betide After our pride, land, offsprings and lives What more of us can be deprived? Virtuousness and compliance Are being ridiculed by this persecution Avarice rules the world, conscience Eclipsed by Darwinian aggression Peace is a piece of cake offered at […]...
29. Hymn 83 Afflictions and death under Providence. Job 5:6-8. Not from the dust affliction grows, Nor troubles rise by chance; Yet we are born to cares and woes; A sad inheritance! As sparks break out from burning coals, And still are upwards borne So grief is rooted in our souls, And man grows up to mourn. Yet […]...
30. The Flood Blood has been harder to dam back than water. Just when we think we have it impounded safe Behind new barrier walls (and let it chafe!), It breaks away in some new kind of slaughter. We choose to say it is let loose by the devil; But power of blood itself releases blood. It goes […]...
31. You Begin You begin this way: This is your hand, This is your eye, This is a fish, blue and flat On the paper, almost The shape of an eye This is your mouth, this is an O Or a moon, whichever You like. This is yellow. Outside the window Is the rain, green Because it is […]...
32. The Hill Wife I. LONELINESS Her Word One ought not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the house To seem to say good-bye; Or care so much when they come back With whatever it is they sing; The truth being we are as much Too glad for the […]...
33. The Robin's my Criterion for Tune The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune Because I grow where Robins do But, were I Cuckoo born I’d swear by him The ode familiar rules the Noon The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom Because, we’re Orchard sprung But, were I Britain born, I’d Daisies spurn None but the Nut October fit Because, through dropping it, […]...
34. The Towers of Time Under what withering leprous light The very grass as hair is grey, Grass in the cracks of the paven courts Of gods we graved but yesterday. Senate, republic, empire, all We leaned our backs on like a wall And blessed as stron as strong and blamed as stolid Can it be these that waver and […]...
35. Return This little house sows the degrees By which wood can return to trees. Weather has stained the shingles dark And indistinguishable from bark. Lichen that long ago adjourned Its lodging here has now returned. And if you look in through the door You see a sapling through the floor....
36. The Rule of the A. J. C Come all ye bold trainers attend to my song, It’s a rule of the A. J. C. You mustn’t train ponies, for that’s very wrong By the rules of the A. J. C. You have to wear winkers when crossing the street, For fear that a pony you’d happen to meet If you hear one […]...
37. The Learner I’ve learned Of all the friends I’ve won Dame Nature is the best, And to her like a child I run Craving her mother breast To comfort me in soul distress, And in green glade to find Far from the world’s unloveliness Pure peace of mind. I’ve learned the worth of simple ways, And though […]...
38. To Edward Fitzgerald I chanced upon a new book yesterday; I opened it, and, where my finger lay ‘Twixt page and uncut page, these words I read – Some six or seven at most – and learned thereby That you, Fitzgerald, whom by ear and eye She never knew, “thanked God my wife was dead.” Aye, dead! and […]...
39. The Spirit of Air Coral and clear emerald, And amber from the sea, Lilac-coloured amethyst, Chalcedony; The lovely Spirit of Air Floats on a cloud and doth ride, Clad in the beauties of earth Like a bride. So doth she haunt me; and words Tell but a tithe of the tale. Sings all the sweetness of Spring Even in […]...
40. Easter, 1916 I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head Or polite meaningless words, Or have lingered awhile and said Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done Of a mocking tale or a gibe […]...